


All Alone in Space and Time

by Portrait_of_a_Fool



Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: Angst, Bloodplay, Explicit Language, M/M, S&M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-09
Updated: 2011-01-09
Packaged: 2017-10-14 14:26:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,196
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/150222
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Portrait_of_a_Fool/pseuds/Portrait_of_a_Fool
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve has a certain kink; an itch to be scratched and only one person knows it. It's just not the person it should be, but the bruises will one day tell the story his mouth won't; Chin will see to it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All Alone in Space and Time

Steve’s back feels hot all over, red welts rising on his skin. His skin has cracked in some places, blood oozing thin and lazy from them while mottled bruises bloom in the shape of a belt buckle in others. It’s agony every time the wind so much as brushes across his skin; perfect agony and Steve moans softly, unconsciously arching into it as he waits for what’s next. He isn’t kept waiting for long and listens to the sound of the belt falling to the porch floorboards where it lays like a dead serpent. Next is the sound of his zipper being yanked roughly down and then fingers digging into one hip to hold Steve steady. He just lowers his head more, bending over the porch rail and breathes slowly through his mouth.

A slick of spit on his hand to smooth over his cock and then Chin’s shoving inside of Steve, head snapping forward to bury his teeth to the point of drawing blood in his shoulder. Steve grunts and then moans, arching into the onslaught; it hurts, but it feels good, too. It’s what they need right now and _fuck_ , he can feel the blood running down his back when Chin resets his grip. His fingers are biting bruises into his hips that will be so deep in the skin and black that they last for days.

It’s when he feels Chin’s tongue, soft-rough and warm licking the blood away from his back where it flows across his skin that Steve cries out. He tries to hold it back, but he can’t and it echoes in the humid night air. He starts to do it again, strangling on the sound when Chin clamps a hand over his mouth, fingertips pressing into the soft flesh of Steve’s cheek. He breathes, “Shh,” into Steve’s ear before nipping his earlobe sharply. Steve can smell his blood on Chin’s breath and he shudders all over, crying out into Chin’s cupped palm. He hears the dull, meaty echo of it just before he bites down on the side of Chin’s hand to keep himself quiet. Chin sucks in a pained breath and fucks him even harder.

Steve thinks he is falling apart as he buries his teeth even deeper, tasting the skin pressed between his teeth; familiar flavors of sweat and gun oil coating his tongue. It makes him shiver again and move back into Chin’s rough thrusts. He’s going to be so sore later; thinks he may be bleeding now. Hell, he probably is, but this is not a romantic interlude by candlelight with murmured words of love and adoration. It’s just them, Steve bent over the porch rail with splinters digging into his belly and Chin behind him, biting him bloody like he’s trying to rip all of Steve’s worries and stress out of him by force. Drool runs down Steve’s chin from the fleshy gag keeping his cries contained and he holds onto the rail even tighter as Chin cups the underside of his jaw with his other hand and pulls his head back to bite at the tendons in his neck. These are not marks that will be easily explained, but Steve doesn’t care.

His want and need are screaming devils in his bloodstream and his pulse is throbbing in his temples. Every ounce of pain lights him up all over, making his tortured flesh throb and the blood on his back grows cold, trickling down his skin from all of those neat, evenly spaced punctures in his flesh. When Chin grinds against his ass, Steve’s breath hitches and he makes a sound almost like a whimper; something low and desperate that escapes his throat as unbidden as his cries. He’s close, on the brink and he wants to dissolve or shatter, wants his mind wiped blank for just a little while. Chin grunts behind him, the smell of sweat and the lewd smack-slide of it as their hips connect brutal thrust after brutal thrust and Steve... all Steve can do is shake and try not to scream.

His orgasm broadsides him, snapping through his body like electric rubber bands and he screams then, truly screams through Chin’s flesh in his mouth. And if that scream sounds more like “Danny” and less like “Chin” then Steve can pretend he doesn’t hear it and he knows that Chin will do the same.

The warmth of his own come smearing across his skin has Steve crying out softly and behind him Chin says, “Fuck,” and thrusts into him once more, so hard that Steve’s belly bites hard into the wooden porch railing and that, too, will leave a bruise to mark this fevered occasion. Then he feels the warm rush of Chin’s come inside of his body and moans low at that, slumping and panting hard for breath as Chin drags his palm away from his mouth.

He can’t look at Chin, not after this and Chin just runs a suddenly gentle hand down the back of his head as he withdraws from Steve’s sore, abused body. “You should get some sleep,” he says.

Steve can’t even answer him; he just listens to the sound of Chin zipping up his pants and the clump of his motorcycle boots as he walks away. They will never speak of this again and the knowledge will be a heavy weight between them for a while, but that will also fade away and soon enough they’ll be back to normal. Steve’s grateful for that, for the resilience Chin has and the love he can give without expecting anything in return. He did this _for_ Steve and no other reason than that; he gave him what he needed because he knows what that is more than anyone. Steve didn’t have to ask—he _wouldn’t_ ask, not for this, not ever. It’s not a question that can be put into words. Chin knew though, all it took was one long, hard look at Steve’s face when he answered the door and he’d nodded.

“I know,” he’d said and all Steve had been able to do was let out a shaking breath as he dropped his hands to the fly of his pants. Chin had stepped back and Steve had followed him out into the warm darkness. His eyes stayed locked with Chin’s right up to the moment he turned him around and cracked his belt, buckle side out, across Steve’s shoulders.

He hears Chin pause by the doorsteps and Steve lifts his head a little. “Call Danny, he needs to know,” he says, voice so faint Steve barely catches his words. Then he’s gone, disappearing into the darkness, walking his bike down the driveway because right now any break in the silence would shatter the illusion of peace that the still, quiet night lends them.

Steve just stays there for a while, mind a white noise mess while blood runs down his shoulder and come cools on the backs of his thighs. He going to have to call Danny; Chin’s left too many marks on him that he can’t explain away this time. But he won’t do it tonight, no. Soon though. _Soon._


End file.
